It had been nearing a record for some time. The British public was excited to see this historic event. The previous longest-reigning monarch had reigned for sixty-three years. Sixty-three years, seven months and two days, to be exact. Yesterday marked Queen Elizabeth II’s sixty-third year, seventh month, and second day. Today was the day.

The streets were lined with thousands of people, all hoping to catch a glimpse of her Majesty as she made her parade through the city. It was, in fact, a very boring procession; dozens of police, her Majesty’s open carriage, followed by more police.

But on the way back to Buckingham Palace, something seemed to change. Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth didn’t smile as she had on her way out. She almost looked afraid. Queen Elizabeth still waved, smiled slightly, and made comments to Prince Harry, her grandson who sat with her.

It was at the halfway point. As the carriage made the turn, Queen Elizabeth saw a hooded figure. Curiosity got the better of her; she turned and looked steadily into the hood, looking for a face. When she saw it, she couldn’t believe who she saw.

She hadn’t seen that face before, except in art.

The face of her grandmother. The face of Queen Victoria.

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